Wednesday, June 4th 2014
It’s the apocalypse. Or at least I think it is. Cell service has been out since Monday and the last time the city had power was Sunday, the day after everything started. Catching the local news on television hasn’t exactly been an option. The last real piece of information I managed to pull off the web before everyone’s cell lost service is that whatever this thing is, it has been spreading from every coastline in North America, like some sort of slow, messed up tidal wave. If my guess is correct and the same things have been happening on every other continent on the planet I can’t imagine humanity coming back from it. It’s why I’m writing this journal. I figure if the world is ending and humanity’s turn is up I might as well leave something for whatever civilization comes next. I’m not sure how long laminated paper lasts but it’s worth a shot.
I suppose I should start at the beginning, so whoever or whatever is reading this knows what the hell wiped an entire race off the planet. Maybe it will even give them a clue on what caused this. I wish I knew. All I know is that last Saturday was the day the coast turned black. Everyone had a theory of course. My money was on some kind of oil spill from one of the coastal oil platforms dotting the horizon. Some people thought it was a weird algae bloom like in a red tide. My neighbor in the apartment next door, Gerry, was convinced it was caused by global warming. Not like it really mattered, once night fell and the power to the city went out people became more worried about why they couldn’t charge their laptops then why the sea turned black. It wasn’t until the sea started rising that everyone began to turn their attention back to the black water.
I’ve never seen water move that fast. My apartment building is a mile from the coast and by Sunday morning the first ten floors of my apartment building were completely submerged, leaving me and everyone else in the building stranded. Apparently the water never stopped moving inland because the last news update I managed to read before my phone went kaput had the water two hundred miles out of New York City. The water has slowed now but every night it surges, taking a few more floors with it. Good thing my apartment complex is a decent size and my own apartment is on the thirty-eighth floor out of forty-nine. Things are getting crowded on the lower levels as floor after floor is evacuated to the higher parts of the building. Luckily the apartment has a decent amount of free rooms and people have been offering the extra space in their apartment to anyone who needs it. Food and water has been a slight issue and the lack of power means we’ve had to throw a lot of spoiled food out of the apartment windows. Thank god most of the food I buy normally is eighty percent preservatives.
Monday was when the apartment super, Mark, asked everyone to meet him on the roof to talk about rationing and our situation. He went around gathering everyone’s names and made a list of all the residents still in the building. Eventually everyone agreed to take stock of what supplies they had and report back to him. It’s odd how calm everyone has been about this, a black sea is literally slowly swallowing our city whole and everyone is acting like everything will go back to normal in a few days. No one wants to mention why we haven’t even seen one FEMA or National Guard helicopter. This isn’t normal, water doesn’t move like this. The sea was knocking on New York’s door and yet the water here has only made it to the tenth floor. That’s not how normal water works. Even at night, when I’ve got nothing to do, I watch the black sea that fills the streets and I swear I see things, people even, moving in the water. I’m sure it’s just fish but I can’t help but feel that fish don’t move that way. Anyways, I’ve volunteered to help move some supplies up from the lowest levels still above the water so I’m ending the journal here.
Thursday, June 5th 2014
Things are starting to get weird. When I was moving supplies up the stairwell Wednesday I heard voices coming from the lower levels. I thought it was just some of the younger kids in the apartment playing at explorers in the empty lower levels again but when I went to investigate I didn’t find anything but a few pieces of stray clothing and damp carpet. As I started to head back up the stairwell I could have sworn I saw someone’s head disappearing into the water from the corner of my eyes. Needless to say I got the hell out of there as fast as I could. The rest of the day went on uneventfully and I just chalked it up to my imagination messing with me. Later that night while I was watching the sea I saw a group things moving through the water’s surface again, directly towards the building. I didn’t mention it to anyone today but I don’t think I’m the only one seeing things. Everyone seems to be on edge.
Friday, June 6th 2014
Mark held another meeting today. Some of the people from his list were missing but he assured everyone that the list was already sketchy to begin with and the missing people were more than likely just skipping out on the meeting. Mark has been keeping track of our food and water usage and says we should be fine on food for at least a month but our supply of water will only last another week. Gerry, my neighbor, volunteered to make a desalination still and I offered to help him. When the meeting ended Gerry and I went about collecting various objects to put together a still. A few hours in and we had a reasonable, if not wobbly, device set up in his living room where his beat-up couch used to be. With the still up I left Gerry to tinker with it some more while I, containers in hand, headed towards the lower levels of the stairwell to gather some salt water to test the still. I admit I was still afraid to go near the lower levels of the stairway since my last experience but I tried to push the fear to the back of my mind. I managed to keep my fear in check as descended the stairs. It stayed that way until I started to fill the water. As I knelt at the top of the submerged staircase to fill the plastic jugs I couldn’t shake the feeling of something watching me. I know how cliché that sounds but I just couldn’t shake the feeling of movement behind me. I filled the jugs as fast as I could and once I was finished, ascended the stairs as quick as I could without actually running. It was probably just the water moving around in the jugs but I could have sworn something splashed in the water when I got to the next flight of stairs. The animal instinct to run was too much for me and I bolted up the stairs as fast as I could. Something followed me up those stairs, I know it. I saw it moving through the railing just a flight below me. I dropped the water of at Gerry’s and when he asked me why I looked so flustered I shrugged it off, telling him I was tired and retreated to my apartment. When I got there I bolted the door and checked all the closets with a flashlight. I didn’t watch the black sea tonight.
Saturday, June 7th 2014
Gerry came by in this morning. He told something is seriously weird with the water I collected and that I needed to take a look. We went over to his apartment and Gerry showed me the still. Apparently it had been running all night but hasn’t even made a single drop of clean drinking water. When I asked him if the still was just set up wrong he made an odd face and took off the vapor condenser covering the boiling pot. Not only had the water not boiled but it was still just as cool to the touch as when I gathered it, despite the fact it had been sitting in the boiler all night. We spent the next few hours talking about the black water and sharing stories of the weird things going on in the building. Apparently I haven’t been the only one dealing with strange things. Gerry is a pretty sociable guy and had been spending a lot of time talking to people around the building. Some of them had their own stories. Brenda, the women who owns the apartment below me, told Gerry she found wet footprints in the carpet outside her door leading to the stairwell yesterday. Luke, the amateur starwatcher that lives on the forty-eighth floor told Gerry stars are starting to disappear and re-appear from the sky like something out there is moving in front of them. Gerry said he’s also starting to hear rumors of people closer to the flooded floors just up and disappearing. Someone on the thirty-second floor swears they keep hearing voices coming from the stairwell at night. Apparently the people on the thirty-fifth floor have completely barricaded the stairwell doors at night. We laughed and agreed it was crazy but when we made eye contact I knew neither of us really thought that. Everyone is scared. The water is already at the thirtieth floor and no one has heard or even seen a boat, plane, or helicopter. Is there even anyone left in a position to rescue us? And what happens if the water doesn’t stop rising. What do we do when we don’t have any floors to move up to? I couldn’t think about it anymore. I thanked Gerry for talking to me and left my for my room. I avoided looking at the entrance to the stairway when I got to the hall, instead opting to keep my head down and look at my feet. I suppose I would have missed it if I had not avoided looking at the stairwell but on the carpet in front of Gerry’s door were the wet footprints Brenda said she saw outside her door. The same animal instinct that made me flee in the stairwell kicked in and I scrambled to get inside my apartment. As I closed the door something rushed from further down the hall into the stairwell. I locked the door again and this time put a chair under the handle. I covered all my windows with blankets tonight, I don’t like the way the black water reflects the moonlight into my room.
Sunday, June 8th 2014
Gerry is gone. So is Brenda. I went over to check on him today and his door was ajar. The footprints were in his apartment this time. I asked around and no one on the floor has seen him. When I asked the people on the floor below me they say they haven’t seen Gerry. They asked if I’ve seen Brenda. I said no. We tried not to show it but there is fear in everyone’s eyes. They said they were leaving for the higher floors. Said I should go with them. I told them maybe I would and wished them good luck. I went back up the stairwell to my floor, walking backwards so I can keep my eyes on the lower levels. I felt stupid but the fear kept me from doing otherwise. I spent the rest of the day packing up my belongings.
Monday, June 9th 2014
I had a weird dream last night. I was swimming in a deep, black void surrounded by the other residents of my apartment. Gerry was there. We kept swimming deeper and deeper into the abyss. I tried to resist the urge to swim but my body moved on its own. I saw something down in the depths, something I don’t understand. Unimaginably large, I was nothing but a speck to it and yet I could feel its thoughts focusing on me, on us. I don’t know how to describe the alien thoughts that flashed through its mind. The colossus stirs and I am finally released from the nightmare. As I lay there in my sweat-soaked sheets I heard someone trying the door. It continued for a minute or two, ending in a loud bang as if someone threw their entire weight into the door. I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. It was about noon when I had finally found the courage to open the door. There were wet footprints at my door. As I stared at the footprints a family passed me by, luggage in hand, presumably heading to the brief sanctuary of the upper floors. The water apparently rose much quicker last night; it’s two floors under me now. Part of me is screaming, telling me to flee to the upper levels like the rest of my floor. The rest of me is so tired though. It won’t be any different. The water will rise like it always has, until there isn’t a higher floor to rise to. It’s always been humanity’s fate to return to the depths, no matter how far we crawl on to land. It was so juvenile of humanity to think the sea wouldn’t eventually reclaim what rightfully belongs to it.
Tuesday, June 10th 2014
I didn’t lock my door tonight. It should be soon enough now. I thought I’d be scared but I’m not. I spent today staring into the sea. I don’t know why I found the blackness so disquieting. It’s such a calming sight, so empty and serene. It comforts me, even as I sit here staring into the sea watching the stars slowly blink out. The darkness is coming and soon enough the world will return to the serenity of the abyss. Ah, there it is. Someone is trying the doorknob again. I’m sure they will be happy to find it unlocked.
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Topic: I wrote a (Really) short story (Read 1524 times)